Long Interview Poems
Long Interview Poems. Below are the most popular long Interview by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Interview poems by poem length and keyword.
Wayland here again with another clerihew to end the year
These will probably never be famous, but that isn’t the fear
Sometimes the honesty is these may be just a little too strong
They're all done in fun, but some lines seem to go wrong
The philosopher lays the blame in the characters included
Only to what’s written here on the soup has he alluded
No outer sources does he ever interview
I say sorry to those victimized by my clerihew
Mr. Bunch, I don't remember calling myself that
Hasn’t been the one known to avoid a spat
Of what he feels and sees he likes to write
These truly are in fun, with little or no spite
Jack E I haven’t looked yet to see his new work
He has so much wit he could be a funny jerk
But he writes and really abstains from anger
If he got mad though, I’d bet there’d be intellectual danger
Good thing he’s Santa with no time to read these
If you see him, probably don’t mention them please
I don’t want to encourage him with another form
The quatrain that is what has become his norm
Advancing in age but he’s still feisty old Saint Nick
If you don’t believe me you’ll have to read his limerick
I said limerick but he’s naughty in more than one
If you want a particular Santa’s Beard is filled with pun
FJ Thomas seems to enjoy being clerihewed
Her comments leave me believing she’s no prude
An example would leave some saying I’ve a dirty mind
I’d have to say did you really read or are you blind
I’m glad Mrs. Thomas decided not to leave
She felt the affection from the comments she did receive
I try to leave affectionate comments for my part
But I know often times my a** is a little to smart
How many of these about PD could I write
If I started now I’d be here till tomorrow night
She definitely is engrained everywhere just read
I still hold that of a new nemesis she has some need
Then she could destroy her imagery is uncanny
I bet under the bullying category she has many
So sweet and innocent my first impression of her
Then I went back and found why she’s called destroyer
Yes Linda couldn’t have picked a better name
The poor souls that were the victims of her fame
I remember a specific one haven’t seen him around
If she’s looking for a new victim, tell her I can’t be found
Once again note that these are all in fun, and only 99% of this should you believe, lol. I had about 5 more but ran out of space and courage haha.
I am just coming off the big stage that was erected for this vibrant age. The energy is still lingering in the ground and the honey bees are still buzzing around; something special took place at united center last night that send the people wild, heaven was cruising with paradise on earth and the people were dancing their hearts out and the world embrace each other close to the midnight hour. Everyone had this catchy rhythm in their feet and the ladies dressed in white looking like young brides some as old as eighty brought back the suffergate movement of the early nineteen century to life. The women were looking smart and happy as they occupy the center of the building and, the whole place resembles congress makeover. Lousi was there staring at the little starlight floating around in the atmosphere; her eyes were fixed on it and her mind was fading with it, what on earth was going on, it was like a party was transpiring on the lawn outside but it was the protesters in the park rumbling with the officer in the dark and the celebration went on and the music rolls on and the speakers enters the stage one by one igniting a thunderbolt across the center and everyone catches on to the fever, some were short and spice, others were long winding and heavy, but it did what it had to do to make the mistress day come true, the celebration mounts with screams and shouts and bickering around and the journalist filled the gap with interview across the floor as the patron called out for more.The momentum continue to build and the multitude in the center begin to chill, I was feeling the energy too but I did not know what to do, and sweat starts oozing out of my flesh and in seconds all my clothes was wet and the energy in the center began to circulate all the way to the gate and the momentum built higher and higher, And when she could not resist it, she came on the stage, the crowd went out of control and flags were waving across the floor and the people kept asking for more, the balloon came down and spread all over the floor and the momentum began to spread like wildfire in the wilderness; keep the momentum going and nurture it with your feeling, keep the momentum going and get some spiritual healing, keep the momentum going and hit the road in a brand new pair of shoe and destiny will tell you what to do.
No Explanation! (I)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Please don't ask me how deeply it hurt!
Her sun shone so bright, even the shadows were burning!
No Explanation! (II)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Please don't ask me how it happened!
She didn't bind me, nor did I free myself.
Alone
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Why are you sad that she goes on alone, Faraz?
After all, you said yourself that she was unique!
Separation
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Faraz, if it were easy to be apart,
would Angels have to separate body from soul?
Time
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
What if my face has more wrinkles than yours?
I am merely well-worn by Time!
Ahmad Faraz [1931-2008], born Syed Ahmad Shah, was a Pakistani poet generally considered to be one of the greatest modern Urdu poets. Faraz was a poet accessible to ordinary readers due to his “fine but simple style of writing.” Ethnically a Hindkowan, he studied Persian and Urdu at Edwards College, then at Peshawar University, where he became a lecturer after receiving his Masters. During his time in college, Faiz Ahmad Faiz and Ali Sardar Jafri impressed him and became influences on his own work. Faraz was born in Kohat, Pakistan to Syed Muhammad Shah Barq. In an interview he recalled how his father once bought clothes for him and his brother on Eid. He didn't like the clothes meant for him, preferring the ones given to his elder brother. This lead him to write his first couplet:
Laye hain sab ke liye kapre sale se (He brought clothes for everybody from the sale)
Laye hain hamare liye kambal jail se (For me he brought a blanket from jail)
Faraz was an outspoken critic of Pakistan’s military dictatorship, saying, “My conscience will not forgive me if I remain a silent spectator of the sad happenings around us. The least I can do is to let the dictatorship know where it stands in the eyes of the concerned citizens whose fundamental rights have been usurped. I ... refuse to associate myself in any way with the regime ..."
Keywords/Tags: Ahmad Faraz, Pakistani, Urdu, Persian, translation, couplets, love, sun, sad, unique, separation, angels, body, soul, mrburdu
“Good Morning! I know you are busy. Will you stop for a while for an interview?”
Sir, what do you want to know? If only you are keen,
And do not look at me with prejudice, I shall explain,
How I ended up here and tell you my whole story_
The story of my journey from the cliff to the plane.
“Yes, I know you are a traveller, tell me all about it. But before that, I wish to know about your origin and background.”
I was part of a big rock, so static without motion.
I used to watch birds in flight on feathered wings,
Going from one end to the other, merrily singing,
Buoyed up by the force of the wind as on swings.
Like them I longed to be free and roaming
But knew I was cradling just a fanciful whim.
I slept most of my life with my dream tucked in my heart.
As time rolled by, my dreams and fancies grew dim.
It was then a tremor shook the very face of the earth,
Loosening my mother boulder from her strong hinge.
She moved and rolled down from the great heights,
On the way a chip got broken, in pain I did twinge.
Thus, I was born. Painfully, alienated from my mother,
I felt so orphaned and lay silent in a dark corner,
Lost and hungering like a dream waiting to wake up.
But my grief gave way to joy, no more I was a mourner.
“It sounds so interesting. How did it all happen? Please tell me…..”
Seeing me lying dejected and despondent, a small stream
Took pity on me and carried me along.
I enjoyed my ride and never more I was sad.
Now to a wider world, joyfully I belong.
Freed from all chains, I am out to view life and enjoy.
I stay in nature’s bosom, free to saunter wherever I wish.
Never feeling the need to pitch my tent, like a gipsy,
I travel along with the stream, with a merry swish.
“So glad to know that your life has taken such an unexpected turn. Now a last question.How do you respond to the popular saying- ‘A Rolling Stone gathers no moss.’”
Sorry, I have nothing to comment. Let men see it that way,
Enjoy life is my creed, my song is the song of liberty.
Leaving all cares and sorrows behind, like a tramp I stroll,
Taking turns and twists, sometimes cascading down in endless novelty.
“Thank you for stopping by to tell the story of your life and sharing your views and aspirations on life”
I saw a talk-show interview
of a new author, all the rage,
she had sold two million copies,
her book is everywhere these days.
It was tailor-made for women,
a downcast wife looking for love,
verbally abusive husband,
trapped in a situation tough.
Until one day she went out west,
going on vacation alone,
her husband said that he had work,
brushed her off, she was on her own.
She had gone out to a dude ranch,
she had loved horses as a kid,
where she met the ranch’s wrangler,
a mountain man cowboy named Sid.
He was what her husband was not,
Sid was caring, confident, cool,
he’d help he mouth, his touch would linger,
and she’d smile back like a fool.
They’d find themselves talking for hours,
finding any excuse to touch,
then one day in a mountain meadow
they spread a blanket and made love.
It was all that she lacked at home,
passionate, intense, and sincere,
she wished that she could never leave,
but she had a life, a career….
And her cowboy love made peanuts,
not enough for two to survive,
nesides, this was infatuation,
that’s what she told herself inside.
But at home she couldn’t be happy,
soon enough she longer for escape,
so once a year, for a whole week,
to her cowboy she’d make her way.
And this continued for eight years,
until she saw on their website,
that her man died in a car crash,
she hid her tears for that whole night.
Yet he had left a parting gift,
for she was sick in the mornings,
this was the author’s tragic tale,
it has countless fans adoring.
To seal the deal she did proclaim
that it was based on her own life,
she’d changed names, but much was quite real,
you sold more with tales of real strife.
My own wife was enrapt by it,
which caused me some little alarm,
but she just laughed and dismissed it
when I said such tales could do harm.
But something just didn’t sit right,
on the whole thing something seemed off,
I know truth is stranger than fiction,
but something kept making me scoff.
Real life just doesn’t work this way,
romance can never be that clear,
then throw in infidelity?
This tale was not what it appeared.
So in free time I went online,
digging into the author’s past,
and saw that I was not the first
to put this new writer on blast...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
So Blue, what have you been doing since my last interview with you?
Well, I still hang out (or should I say “up”) with Sky. And I’m down with oceans, rivers, lakes and seas.
However, Sky sometimes meets up with Black or Gray. That’s when I need to get away from Sky!
Well, where do you really like to be most of the time?
Gosh, that’s just difficult to say. I’m in so many bodies of water (which by the way are not these days always clear to see). I miss when I was crystal Blue in water all around the world. Anyway, I love that I get to surround the creatures of the ocean. I’m in so many things, I simply can’t choose a favorite.
Well, tell me some of your favorites then.
I enjoy being a Bluebell although I can’t ring. Humans have made plastic and metal bells of blue. Then I get to ding-a-ling. I really love to shine in stones like sapphire or of aquamarine. As a Siamese Fighting fish, I simply can’t be beat. And when as a blue jay I am on the wing, you can hear how beautifully I sing. As a peacock I feel very proud, and when I’m a blueberry, people just eat me up!
Wow, you are a part of so many things. Maybe you are Mother Nature’s favorite color.
I think perhaps I am. You could even say that I’m like God because I’m in so many places at the same time, and I’m even in some people’s eyes.
I wonder why all the colors like you are able to be in so many places at the same time just as God is said to be. What do you think, Blue?
I suppose it’s because we are a reflection of God Himself. Personally I think I am one of God’s favorite colors. Do you like me the best of creation’s colors?
Yes, I think you are really cool. I even put you in my eyes as contact lenses when I want my eye color to pop! And what’s more, you symbolize many things: freedom, imagination, the wild blue yonder, sensitivity, inspiration, and loyalty, for example.
Well, I really enjoy being called True Blue, so loyalty is big with me. However, with all the contamination these days, I am feeling really Blue, and I do not mean that in a good way.
Yep, for people you can sometimes be quite an unwanted emotion! But at the same time, many of us like to listen to you as Blues music. Keep your chin up, Blue and we’ll catch you later.
Dear 2020!
This Poem was Inspired by an Acknowledgment that this Past Year Was Difficult or Tough, That I Don't have All of the Answers, But I Serve a God Who Does. That I Did Have Some Beautiful Experiences in 2020, that Should be Celebrated and Not Over-Looked. But Most Importantly That I Must Learn To Trust More In My Heavenly Father, Not Just for the Major of Big stuff, But the Minor Challenges or Obstacles as Well.
A Son of Virginia Who is Loved in Philly!
This Poem was Inspired by An Interview that Mr. Allen Iverson had with the Host's of "All The Smoke". In It he talked Candidly about His Short-Comings, Mistakes and Challenges Which he was Forced to Overcome. When You Read this Poem I hope that You can Think Fondly of Those That You Admire, Look-up to, or Hold in High Regard, and that you Let Them Know that you Appreciate Their Positive Contribution(s) in your Life.
What Price Is Enough For a Win?
This Poem was Inspired by the Malicious Events which took place by People that Held Differing Political Views, or Belief Systems, and their Un-Willingness to See Another Point of View, Reach Across the Aisle and Make a Compromise For The Overall Good of Everyone. This Was Also Inspired by the Fact that After Individuals Disagree or Fight, While Holding Their Political Views Close to their Heart, They Still Have to Live Together, as Neighbors, Family and Members of Society, Long After The Election Results Have Been Decided and Concluded.
Holding Onto What May Never Be Again!
This Poem Was Inspired by the Events of Having Older Gran-Parents, Family Members and Close Personal Friends Who Are in their 60's or 70's and Remembering the Special Memories Made and Moments Shared When they Were Completely Coherent, were aware of their surroundings and Understood what was going on in circumstances that surrounded them. In Comparison to Standing by and Watching as they Slowly Fade into Someone that Does Not Recognize You as Time Passes. Even though You Can Remember Every Thanksgiving, Christmas or 4th of July Celebration. It also Addresses the Fact of How Helpless One Feels by Being Unable to Solve or Find a Solution to their Problem. For In Their Eyes One Can Tell That They Seem Confused and are Trying Hard to Recollect or Remember as Well.
THE COACH
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Went to an alumni meeting last week
Looking for solace, the outlook was bleak
We lost a game we should have won
A total disaster to all not just some
Cries of anguish torrents of pain
“How the hell did we lose that game”
Three close calls in the recent past
Defeat was looming, the die had been cast
We were favorite to trample that team
What followed next was strictly obscene
No confidence in the coach, zero trust
A new powerful resurgence is a must
“Fire the coach, we need a new spark”
Call the chancellor a search to embark
There’ll be plenty of coaches to interview
At the end of the season there will be a slew
Most will have been fired that’s for sure
Same kind of let down we’ve had to endure
Appoint a committee to find a coaching ace
Got to expunge this humiliating disgrace
While we’re at it the assistants they must go
They haven’t inspired the team as far as I know
Need to raise cash something we’re lacking
Buy out his contract and send him packing
A new coach will cost us a hefty sum
A sales job needed to convince the alum
All must partake in any new proposal
Resources will be placed at our disposal
A few claimed it was to soon to act
Hissed and booed told not to come back
The coach (2)
All that remained were anxiously waiting
Are there any coaches, we’ve been baiting
A new coach will surely demand success
All in favor pledge support in this quest
Days later the finals were slated
Consensus was, we won’t be elated
To our amazement, it’s hard to explain
Out team executed a perfect game
I went to an alumni meeting last night
Everyone was joyful in utter delight
Many were boasting and sipping champagne
Alas we were conference champions again
We need to make sure we continue to cruise
Complete confidence in the coach and his crew
Upgraded facilities, haven’t you heard
Call the chancellor pass on the good word
Our coach is a winner to be sure
Esteem and respect for him to endure
The backers are ecstatic bursting with praise
Throw in some perks add in a raise
Extend his contract for a many a year
Act fast our rivals might get his ear
Those remarks from last week , bid them adieu
They were made by an uninformed few
What are your most winterish
critical trauma events
in these most recent
three millennia?
Why
just my traumas?
Why not their corresponsive
therapies
for restoring EarthJustice?
Please go on
and on
questioning my questions
seemingly without end,
like an arctic wind-blown
starless night
in eternally restless January.
As you say,
and, but for this grand analogy,
you would pay dearly
for your unsprung youth,
Back in pre-colonial daze
of sacred tribal glad,
mostly naked clad
reunions
Fall harvests produced fertile gratitude,
more of a positive
win/win attitude.
In those last warm and golden times
of nature nighttime naivete
some Governor,
a Wise Elder, perhaps
No matter how Patriarchal,
would deep dream
to set defenses against
each sacred Other
Yet pantheistically inclusive Mother Earth
could not feel ripe
or right, apart
Summer fullness
and winter dormant absence
fail to positively correlate
Earth's spirited spring minds
and physical womb-falling bodies
with metaphysical,
sacred bipartisan,
deeply thoughtful
yet hibernating
frustrated feelings
failing to confluently
and competently understand
Communicating
and excommunicating
across seasons
and present seas
of sacred vulnerable immigration
integration
creolization,
followed by thoughtfully transparent
slow-grown emigrant sacred status
rooted in wisdom
and freedom to grow copassions,
not mere freedom from
some other kindless
kingdom
Immigrating/Emigrating EarthTribes
exhaling summer's sway
away
migrating winter's WombDream play
back in to sacred circling
and recycling stay.
Thanks for that,
Aunt Eartha.
Sounds like less of a summery answer
and more of a deep wintering question.
Yes, my dear,
and what does winter taste
and look
and feel like?
Restoring Earth's
not-quite-so-everlasting
seemingly endless
cold white privilege,
Thawing into
more spring/fall balance,
green/blue global
hibernating
matriarchal,
yet apparently dormant,
sacred honed ecologists.
Sorry, Aunt Eartha,
drifting off,
wandering in winter wonder
EcoTherapy, once around again,
regenerating global
GoldenPlaying Peace
Within this silent wintered star's
bright prolific night.
Tony Abbot ex minister prime you came on the net
To spoke at length, to good friends of mine. Graham
And Jhonny ‘a real friendly talk’ about
How you as a part-time fiery walked some hot
Walk. In 2018 when you helped
And that’s all good..' Where so many did lose their lives
And Homes possessions as the blazes grew' as they
Never should Brian Naylor and his wife died now he was
An anchor!! That was a man! he
Spoke true. Not a zak a dozen his thoughts
And style. And you know that too! He’d beat this drainstream
Media, by fifty country miles. And Graham
And Jhonny well i give all respect! Yet they trod sorta
Easy with you Tony.' In style But me?? Well, now i'm
Different.. I ain’t done (you bet!) yet!
Cause you know ( the story ) and the tipans
That roam, that old bush city, that satan calls
Home! Once you were destined for much better
Things yet you joined ‘that circus you ran in
The rings’ you know the skulduggery the
W e f plan. The noble reasons? I.e. genocide
Deception and even the scam, on lesser humans? Women children
And men, the old and vulnerable, just inspect your inner
Soul And see if there remains anything the devils not
Stole? Why not interview Bosi?
Adam Antic too. Turn to Malcom Roberts and the country
That nurtured the beginning of you!! Turn to the
Ringers to the cockys and such' to truckies
And Doctors. To the police who resigned
And all those WHO STOOD TOUGH! Just like Graham
And Jhonny' 'they gave about all that they
Had. (Yet couldn’t really confront you). And that’s real sad
They were concerned
At any backlash.. I reckon that now? Yet I
Will not stand on ceremony. I will push you
And how!! I ask you Tony will you
Put your cattle in the yards? Will you give out some fruit?
Shake the limbs by each bough . eat and drink out of silver
it’s not really that hard! What value gold
Against honour? Turn from the murder' about now!
Raise up a standard, for that’s by far
Your best shout!
Seek out Babet and Pauline Neil Patterson
Rod Culleton they're still about.'
And they are just a few. A whole country is willing wanting leadership
That will do.!
(it just needs more people to stand, who are – really, true blue!).
©Joe Maverick 23rd May 2024